Hope
by Bridgr6
Summary: Daenerys has a much needed fireside chat with an old friend and love.
1. Chapter 1

Here is just a bittersweet little scene I wrote for 8x05. It's supposed to be set in the early portions of Dany's grief. Im leaving it open to interpretation on whether or not this conversation changes Dany's actions. I apologize for any grammatical mistakes. I hope you enjoy! please review and let me know what you think!

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Daenerys stared into the flames crackling lightly within the stone fireplace. She had been sitting in the same spot for hours, but she could not bring herself to move. She had neither the strength nor desire to pull herself to her feet. Hardly anyone had disturbed her silence, but she was not sure if it was out of fear or respect. She did not particularly care.

Daenerys had turned down the offered meals. The emptiness of her stomach was dull in comparison to the emptiness of her heart.

Daenerys tipped her head back and squeezed her eyes shut as another wave of grief wracked through her body. She fought the burn of tears behind her eyelids and gritted her teeth until it was painful. She had cried enough already. Her body nearly ached with the effort of battling her own grief.

Daenerys couldn't stand the sight of anyone, but also craved the comfort of those who loved her. With that desire came the cold truth that all of her loved ones were gone and they could not comfort her from the grave. She was more alone than she had ever been before.

Daenerys fought back memories of days under the hot sun in Essos. Those days she had spent surrounded by friends...her family. She couldn't live in the happiness of the past because it was too painful. She only wanted to close her eyes and forget.

With her head resting against the hard back of the wooden chair, Daenerys turned towards the small table beside her. The leather bound book that rested on the solid structure made her heart ache further. She had brought it close to the fire with the intent of tossing it into the flames, but found she didn't have the strength to destroy her last connection to a happier life. The book was the final physical representation of her greatest love.

She traced her fingers along the rough, weather-worn cover of the book and her eyes drifted shut.

"Khaleesi," her eyes flew open as the familiar rough edges of Ser Jorah's voice echoed through the air.

Daenerys' heart leapt into her throat as she stared into familiar blue eyes. She bolted forward in her chair, confused and overjoyed. Daenerys closed her eyes and reopened them in an attempt to clear her vision.

Clear as day, Ser Jorah remained crouched on his haunches in front of her. His gaze was soft with concern as he waited for her to speak. She felt a tearful sob escape her throat as she reached out to touch her knight. Daenerys' hands shook violently until they found the warm strength of Ser Jorah's face. She gently placed her palms against his scruffy cheeks.

Daenerys' vision blurred with tears as she desperately attempted to memorize each line of his face. Her thumbs caressed the rough edges of his beard. Ser Jorah watched her with a soft expression.

Daenerys' heart ached with the truth that she had never told him how much he meant to her. He had died believing he was unloved. He had died for her and now she was failing him. She felt more lost than the young girl wandering the Red Waste.

"Khaleesi?" Ser Jorah's voice pulled her from her commiserating thoughts.

"Would you advise me one last time, Ser Jorah?" she whispered, his name almost too painful to say out loud.

Ser Jorah's worried expression vanished and was replaced by warm understanding.

"Of course, Your Grace," he stated with an affectionate smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

"What do I do?" she asked, her voice breaking. He did not need her to elaborate further even though her question was impossibly vague.

Ser Jorah pulled her hands from his face and held them gently in his own, close to her lap. His eyes shone with familiar love as he gazed up at her.

"You become the fair ruler that the people of Westeros have been waiting for," he stated.

"How?" she asked, her voice sounding like that of a lost child.

"You lean on the people that believe in you. Don't let those you hate destroy your kind heart. You are not alone, Khaleesi," he stated firmly, squeezing her hands in assurance. She could feel the truth behind his words through his unyielding confidence in matters pertaining to her inner strength. No one had ever believed in her the way Ser Jorah had. His love went beyond power and beauty and did not fade with time. She had taken his presence in her life for granted because of his devotion to her. Now it was too late.

Ser Jorah had returned to her many times before, but now not even love could bring him back.

"I miss you," Daenerys whispered, her gaze shifting to their conjoined hands. She could almost feel memories of their difficult journey together through the rough edges of his palms. She liked the way his large hands engulfed her much smaller ones. Even his hands felt like a protective shield as they covered hers.

"We should be better at saying farewell by now," Ser Jorah's soft words pulled her eyes back to his face. They were words she had spoken to him before. There was a sad smile on his lips and she shook her head in tearful denial. When she had spoken those words to him, it had been a temporary goodbye. She didn't like the permanence of the words as he spoke them now.

Unable to handle the pain of her heart breaking, she did what she had always done; she found comfort in her strong knight.

Daenerys burst forward and wrapped her arms around Ser Jorah's neck. He let out a surprised chuckle that rumbled against her chest. His arms wrapped around her back as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. She closed her eyes and held him tightly, allowing his familiar smell and warmth to envelop her.

"Please, don't go, Jorah," she pleaded in a hushed tone.

Daenerys opened her eyes to gaze at Ser Jorah one last time, but found the room empty. Her head rested on the back of the stiff wooden chair while her hand lay on the book beside her. Had it all been a dream? How could she feel the light pressure of Ser Jorah's hands around hers?

Daenerys lifted her head from the chair and noticed the fire had all but gone out and she was left in partial darkness.

Daenerys grabbed the leather book from the side table and pressed it to her chest. Although her heart still ached, she felt an emotion she thought gone forever: hope.


	2. Chapter 2

I did not plan on adding to this story, but here we are. These chapters aren't necessarily linked, but follow the same theme. Happier stories are ahead, I promise.

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Daenerys found solace in the calm silence that surrounded her as she roamed the empty corridors of Dragonstone. She had suffered her way through another unsuccessful meeting with her advisors. Discussions with her allies had become increasingly painful. She was not blind; she could see the doubt etched upon their faces. This same doubt had crept its way into her own heart and she hated that it was reflected back at her when she looked around the room. Her confidence had burned to the ground to become ashes of uncertainty. No one believed in her and the earth beneath her feet felt unstable.

Unbeknownst to Daenerys, the tiniest thought of faith had brought her heart to the one place it knew it could rest.

Daenerys' eyes burned with unshed tears as she found herself standing outside the bedchambers that had once belonged to her knight. Her fingertips brushed along the wooden edges of the door as she tried to summon up enough courage to enter the preserved space. She had walked past the room countless times over the past few days, always hesitating for a moment before turning away. The wooden door felt like the only barrier between her and pleasant memories left to spoil.

Daenerys hated how much it hurt to think of Ser Jorah because he had been one of the greatest sources of happiness in her life. Without memories of him, she was left with too much misery and sadness. She despised the physical ache of her grief and the way it hollowed out her chest.

Daenerys straightened as Ser Jorah's warm gaze flashed across her memory. He deserved to be remembered, no matter how much pain it caused her. It was selfish of her to push him away in death when he had died so selflessly for her.

Taking a deep breath, Daenerys pushed against the solid door and slowly stepped into the room. Part of her prayed she would find her knight sitting by the fire in his room; his soft, blue eyes ready to greet her. She knew this dream was the true reason for her hesitation. Once she entered the room and found it empty, all hope would be gone...he would be gone.

Daenerys held her breath until the door closed softly behind her, leaving her alone in the empty space. It was completely silent and Daenerys squeezed her eyes shut to drown out the pounding of her heart. She didn't understand how something that felt so broken could continue to beat so fiercely.

The small space still held Ser Jorah's scent; a smell so unique to him that she struggled to describe it. It reminded her of fresh, open fields and nights beneath starry skies. Somehow, the scent itself felt like pressing her face against the grassy earth and hearing nothing but the sound her own heartbeat. She was grateful she had shut the door because she wanted to trap the smell inside for as long as possible.

Daenerys slowly opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. The room was poorly lit by thin beams of sunlight filtered through a small window. The light caught on dust particles drifting through the air, which formed eerie shadows that only seemed to enhance the emptiness of the room.

Although the walls and floor of the bedchamber were made of stone, the space felt anything but cold. There were no elaborate decorations or fancy paintings adorning the walls and she was happy for it. Her knight had never been one to hide behind faux luxury or grandeur and his room reflected that in its simplicity. Even the bed in the center of the room was practical; its wooden posts matching the legs of the desk leaning heavily against the wall in the opposite corner. The blankets and furs on the bed were arranged neatly and looked untouched.

Daenerys' heart clenched painfully as she noticed familiar objects around the room. She moved to the nearby desk and touched her fingertips to the leather-bound books stacked together on its surface. A sad, wistful smile tugged on her lips.

It had always seemed strange for a fierce knight to be so interested in reading, but she had always admired and benefited from his wealth of knowledge. He had passed on his love of reading with his first gift to her and it was a gift she cherished. It amazed Daenerys that even then, while so many others had strived to impress her or earn her favor, he had sought to bring her comfort. There had been so many elaborate and expensive wedding gifts with no personal meaning, but her knight had gifted her with something he found solace in...something he had hoped would bring her strength when facing her new world. He had not known that his loyalty alone would bring her that strength.

Daenerys' gaze pulled her from her thoughts as her eyes recognized Ser Jorah's handwriting scrawled across a small piece of parchment, which had been deliberately placed on the center of the desk. Daenerys felt her breath escape in a tight gasp as she saw her name etched as the first word on the page. She reached out with shaking hands to pull the letter closer and began to read.

_Khaleesi,_

_I'm writing this letter with the hope that it is an unnecessary farewell and I will be able to destroy it once I return to Dragonstone with you at the end of this war. _

_I don't believe there is much left unsaid between us, but you deserve my final words of devotion. _

_There is not a moment of any day spent by your side that I would change. I have lived a life full of regret, but believing in you has been my absolute purpose and salvation. Serving you has been the greatest honor of my life. After all this time, I am more certain than ever that you will change our world for the better._

_All my love,_

_Jorah_

Daenerys' retraced each line of the letter repeatedly with her eyes, desperately memorizing the curves of his handwriting and only stopping once they become a blur of tears. She let out a strangled sob as she clutched the parchment to her chest and sank to the floor.

Ser Jorah had known before they had even journeyed to the North that he would likely meet his end and still he followed her. He had been so completely devoted to her until the very end. Even his words were designed to comfort her from beyond the grave.

Her biggest failure had erupted from the one part of her that Ser Jorah dare not advise - her heart. She had not understood real love until she had basked in the unwavering strength of Ser Jorah's devotion. Just as he had taught her many other lessons in life, Ser Jorah had taught her to love. No one had _truly_ loved her before her knight. His love had always been selfless and true.

At first, Ser Jorah's love had intimidated and confused her as she had only ever felt the burdening affections of her brother. Later, she had ignored Ser Jorah's love in a misguided effort to maintain it. Daenerys had feared his affections would wane once left uncovered...similar to a secret, which becomes extinct once divulged. His love had never been a secret and she should have known that it would not fade with time.

The sudden regret and longing Daenerys felt was pure agony threatening to suffocate her if she remained alone.

Daenerys stumbled to her feet and somehow made it to the bed. She clawed at the furs and burrowed beneath the blankets in a weak attempt to remain close to her knight. She clutched Ser Jorah's letter in an unbreakable grasp as she hugged the heavy blankets tightly to her chest. She closed her eyes and imagined her arms wrapped around Ser Jorah in place of the worthless fabric.

With closed eyes and a relaxed mind, Daenerys could almost hear the echo of Ser Jorah's voice reading his words to her aloud. Daenerys felt a miraculous wave of peace wash over her as she lay in the room she had believed too painful to enter only moments ago. She should've known better...no one had ever brought her more comfort than Ser Jorah. In that moment, even the grim fantasy of his ghost felt reassuring.

So there the Queen lay; feeling less alone in an empty room, surrounded by the ghost of her greatest love than she did in an entire hall filled with people deemed her closest allies and advisors.

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I will admit this one is not a happy ending. I wrote it an attempt to portray Daenerys' grief beyond what we saw on the screen.

It's difficult to find the balance between doing a character's grief justice and not allowing it to linger for too long. I think we (to an extent) enjoy seeing grief portrayed on TV because it is such a raw emotion that most people experience at some point in their life. We want to relate to our favorite characters in both their happiness and pain. Unfortunately, sadness/pain/grief has an almost addictive quality and when exposed to it for too long, we start to dwell on our own real world struggles.

I think anyone who has experienced true grief understands that it extends beyond the immediate loss of a loved one's physical presence. It's oftentimes difficult to confront a loved one's ghost in the form of tangible memories and possessions.

There can also be comfort in grief, but it is important not to give in to the temptation of living in past memories...this is a struggle I hope was somewhat portrayed through this fic.

Anyway, enough of my rambling. Obviously, this is all my opinion and I am no expert when it comes to human emotion. I believe everyone feels and grieves differently. I would love to hear everyone else's thoughts on this subject and the way it is portrayed by our favorite characters. Thank-you for reading! I cherish your feedback.


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